


The College Experience

by adara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live, Allison Argent Lives, Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Dead Hales, Dead Laura Hale, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Erica Reyes Lives, Established Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Derek, Post-High School, Pre-Relationship, Sad with a Happy Ending, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live, Vernon Boyd Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara
Summary: In which the pack has graduated high school and Derek is adjusting to the changes that brings for them all. He may be missing an important detail when it comes to Stiles and moving on though.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 23
Kudos: 259





	The College Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/gifts).



> Happy, happy birthday to one of my dear and darling best friends <3 I adore you!

“Stiles?” Derek calls out from upstairs as if the sound of the jeep pulling up outside and the characteristic stomping up the stairs two at a time weren’t dead giveaways of his impending arrival to the loft.

There’s an audible hum in the affirmative and some clanging around the kitchen as Stiles settles into whatever he’s doing.

Derek finishes toweling off and gets dressed before heading down. Black jeans, check. Tight henley, check. Socks and boots, check. With his life, he basically had to be ready to go at all times and he basically slept in everything but the boots unless it was summer or the day’s events had been particularly gory and suffocating. If Stiles was here when he was pretty confident Stiles most definitely should not be here, he didn’t want to know what the hellmouth that is Beacon Hills was unleashing on them today. 

His eyebrows crept up his face of their own volition as he noted Stiles had a few books and his laptop already strewn out on the table that did not look like their normal kind of dusty research tomes and was still messing about in the kitchen. When Derek turned into said space, Stiles had the kettle on with two mugs on the counter beside it and appeared to be microwaving breakfast burritos from the smell of it. He looked almost relaxed which was confusing to Derek who assumed this was a more urgent visit than tea and breakfast burritos would imply.

“They’re hot, don’t touch.” Stiles harps when Derek reaches for a plate not two seconds after Stiles sets it down on the counter. “I don’t care if you’ll heal, no burning on my watch.”

He dug around the paper bag that Derek hadn’t yet noticed and pulled out a cup of fresh-cut fruit, likely from the same deli where he grabbed the breakfast burritos. Derek knew neither of them were morning people, he certainly wasn’t expecting a hot breakfast this morning just some cereal from the cabinet, but Stiles seemed like he may have been up for a bit today. Again, unusual. 

The feeding him was not unusual. Derek was actually kind of used to it now as compared to the first time Stiles had tried to feed him. Stiles had chucked a Subway sandwich at him and he’d been so shocked it nailed him straight in the chest and he’d almost dropped it. Stiles was very adamantly the mother hen of the pack and always made sure the first aid kits were stocked for the humans, still carried Scott’s inhaler just in case, and made sure everyone was eating well and hydrated when they weren’t fighting for their lives. There was a case of water bottles in his trunk at all times. 

Stiles divvied up the fruit onto the two plates and then brought them over to the table with some napkins he’d also grabbed from the bag. 

When the kettle started to whistle, Stiles called over to him, “Hey, can you get that? You know which one’s yours.”

And he did. 

Derek had converted Stiles from sugary coffee and espresso monstrosities to the amazingness that is the wealth of teas sometime between junior and senior year. Stiles had derived some sort of Sherlockian glee from trying all the teas, cataloging the distinct properties of each, and eventually making a custom blend for each of the pack, dragged Erica along with him on his research spiral, and she’d ended up with a job at the local hipster tea shop. Derek’s blend was spot on for his tastes and Stiles always kept him well-stocked. 

He was going to miss that when Stiles left. The tea was not the only thing he’d miss but he was still being emotionally constipated, as Erica called it, and it just was never the right time to say anything. 

He dutifully carried out the mugs, passing Stiles his and sitting down at the place setting he assumed was for him since they were the only two there. 

Derek politely dove into his breakfast, waiting for Stiles to get to the point. He was here for something- he was supposed to be in San Fran right now not holed up in the loft on a cloudy Monday morning with the scent from the changing leaves outside permeating the air while they had a well-rounded breakfast with the sun hitting the windows just right and making Stiles’ amber eyes appear electric.

“I’d say you’re quiet this morning, but you don’t usually talk much. You ok?” Stiles asks before sipping his tea now that it had steeped appropriately. 

Derek, per usual, let his eyebrows answer for him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles said, waving his free hand dismissively. “But seriously- everything on the up and up?”

“You tell me,” Derek said, picking his own mug back up for a sip. He was so glad he splurged on more of that good honey from Montana. It really rounded out the tea perfectly, which Stiles had said when he’d given him his first batch with a small jar of the honey. 

“Me?” Stiles asked skeptically, “Peachy. Now eat your breakfast, go do your 100 pull-ups or whatever it is you do in the morning to keep those abs, and I’ll get back to taking up your whole table and being productive. You know I focus better here than at the library- too many blind spots.”

“Stiles, shouldn’t you be-” but Stiles cuts him off before he can finish.

“Shh, no take backsies. You said focus zone is open whenever so I am claiming this table. My peak productivity hours start in,” he pauses to look down at his watch and then back up to Derek, “seventeen minutes and twenty-two seconds. I will have approximately three hours of cram time and then shit’s getting real.”

If he thought that cleared anything up, it didn’t. This was Stiles who, for as much as he talked, was sometimes just as cryptic as Deaton. But Derek had subtly scented the air and there was no fear or anxiety wafting off Stiles so he was going to let it be. If Stiles wanted to talk about it, he would. Derek wondered if he’d had a falling out with Scott this weekend but he seemed in too good a spirit for that and Derek wasn’t about to pry. Derek cleans up their plates and tops off Stiles’ mug before heading out.

\---

If Stiles needed him, he’ll text. He did not have pull-ups to do, thank you very much, but he did still run a few widening circuits of the perimeter every morning which Stiles definitely knows and sometimes joins him on. Since there didn’t seem to be anything more pressing going on he didn’t see a reason not to carry on as usual. He had no issues leaving Stiles alone in his space, it already had Stiles all over it. The rest of the pack too but they each tended to have a preferred spot in the living room and Stiles just seemed to absently touch everything he walked by or flopped onto. 

Erica and Isaac teased him about it mercilessly, had said Stiles was marking his territory, but they didn’t know how much he’d wished that were true. Isaac, Scott, and Stiles had all left the territory the Thursday after graduation to go check out off-campus housing by their university. They’d packed Stiles’ jeep up with their stuff this past weekend and drove past to wave at Derek in passing on their way to go move into their new apartment. They were going to be claiming some new space and Derek wanted to be happy for them to get out, even if just for a little while.

He’d gotten out, albeit violently and tragically when his family had been murdered, and he and Laura had gone to college in New York. They were nobodies there, just a pack of two, holding down their tiny apartment in Queens and keeping their heads down. Laura had graduated before coming back to Beacon Hills. She’d even gotten a real adult job and made friends at work who were probably still wondering where she’d moved to when she up and disappeared. 

Derek hadn’t finished his degree when he came back here looking for Laura when he’d come back from class and found the note she’d left about needing to make a quick trip to BH. He’d turned down every invite for coffee, every study group invitation, ignored everyone that approached him at the library, never went to parties. Laura wanted better for him and told him he needed to have “a real college experience” and live the life that he had not the one that was already gone. That shadow of a life stopped when hers had ended. 

He wanted the younger members of the pack to live the lives they had. He wanted them to be able to go to college, to go be in study groups and make friends, maybe even party if they could do it safely. He kind of understood what Laura had meant back then. He heard her sometimes, in his head, scolding him like a broken record to say the things he couldn’t or to do better by these kids like she’d tried to do for him. He didn’t know how to keep them all safe and get through it together, not at first, but they’d gotten better at it together. He’d like to think that Laura would be proud of the progress he’s made.

He has friends now. He goes places. He has hobbies. He reads because he wants to and because he has time, not because it’s been assigned by some professor or because if he doesn’t find the right page of the right book they are all going to die terribly. He still probably won’t ever finish his degree but it’s not like he needs it. He could comfortably live off the bank account interest alone, one of the benefits of coming from an old family was accumulated wealth. He’d rather have his family but he’d found one in a bunch of misfit teens who’d grown through many shitstorms with him and they’d all come out stronger. He thinks she’d love them too, especially Erica though he thinks Boyd would be her secret favorite. He can be an acerbic bastard sometimes and it reminds him so much of his sister.

Derek wants so much for them sometimes, he’s not sure if that’s alpha instinct, brotherly love, or a bit of his own mother hen showing. He wants Erica to be just as successful in life as he knows Lydia will be. Lydia’s off to Boston soon to take MIT by storm but Erica’s pleased as punch in their town, serving up tea and getting her baking on at an hour that should be illegal to be awake. Boyd goes where Erica does so he’s enrolled part-time at the community college and still working part-time at the ice rink. 

Danny’s heading to MIT as well, the Valedictorian and Salutatorian sticking together as incoming freshman. Jackson, though his father was a bit pissed he hadn’t wanted to go to his alma mater here in California but also chuffed that he was following in his footsteps to study law, was joining Lydia and Danny in Boston to study at Harvard. Derek was glad they were sticking together.

He was glad Scott, Isaac, and Stiles would be together too. San Francisco wasn’t too far. It was doable. Not for like a daily commute but maybe some weekends and definitely the term breaks. Kira would be back in New York with her parents so she had people with her too. Allison, like Erica, had just laughed when people asked what college she was going to. She comes from an old family too, he is acutely aware, but she doesn’t need a degree just the same. Chris has her interning over the summer at their public-facing arms business and she’ll likely work her way up the ranks because he knows her well enough to know she doesn't want anything she hasn’t worked to earn. 

So Beacon Hills is down to Erica, Boyd, Allison, Parrish, the Sheriff, and himself. Peter, Malia, and Cora travel together. That’s not so bad. Nobody will be traveling alone or isolated. Lydia and Kira plan to visit regularly. It’s going to be fine. If he tells himself that enough it feels less like losing his second family. 

He’s done more laps than usual trying to give Stiles uninterrupted time to focus on whatever needed doing. He finds himself pretty deep in the preserve standing in front of where his old home once stood. He still feels the loss, the wavering threads that are the remnants of the pack bonds he was born with, but he’s also got a strong and diverse pack now. They’re going to make it through the next 4 years just fine. If the east coasters want to stay out there for grad school, that’s a worry for future Derek not for the Derek of today who’s still coming to terms with having empty nest syndrome before the nest is even empty- Stiles is literally still sprawled all over his table back at the loft. 

Derek wonders how long the loft will smell of Stiles when he’s gone, if it will fade before he’s back on break. He places a palm to the ground, he still feels connected to his family here even though they’re gone. The shell of the house was bulldozed a few years back so he can’t even curl up in the blackened husk of Laura’s old room and try to catch a whiff of her perfume under all the ash. He remembered when the Camaro stopped smelling of her and her shampoo. He wonders if it will feel the same when the Camaro no longer smells of Stiles, of half his pack, but he knows that losing Stiles will hurt the most. He’s so used to everything smelling of Stiles and tells himself it’s just the comfort of pack. Totally normal. He’s not totally in love with that idiot or anything. 

Except for the fact that he totally is. From the exasperated looks they shoot his way when he slips and gives a fond smile instead of snark in response to one of Stiles’ tirades, he’s pretty sure everybody in the pack can see it plain as day except for probably Stiles himself and most definitely Scott who literally only made it through high school because his friends helped him with all his homework. That’s probably for the best though, Scott likely wouldn’t approve, and on the minuscule chance that he did, Derek can think of few things more horrifying than the prospect of Scott playing cupid.

He reckoned he’d spent enough time out for Stiles to get his work done so he started to head back toward the loft. The semester didn’t start until next week, as far as he’d been told by Isaac when they talked last night. Maybe Stiles was trying to get ahead on the reading and had gotten advance copies of the syllabus for his courses, he did like to be over-prepared in the event of the unforeseeable supernatural snafus that tended to crop up more for them than he remembered growing up. Maybe his mom just took care of it all well before any disturbances would trickle down to him and his siblings though. 

\---

When he nears the loft, he sees the jeep is gone. He double-checks his phone for any missed calls or messages and there are none so he assumes Stiles is fine and got whatever he needed out of his system. He’s learned that sometimes it’s best not to ask. Derek jogs up the stairs and lets himself in the front door of the apartment. He pauses to listen as he always does but hears no other heartbeats besides his own so he shuts the door behind him and heads into the kitchen. 

Stiles had left him a fresh tin of his D Tea, labeled in his unique brand of chicken scratch, and a note. Derek rolls his eyes at the waste of paper when they both had phones that definitely have texting capability but he also definitely has every note Stiles has ever written him in a box at the top of his bookshelf upstairs. He’s pretty sure nobody knows about that. He may have made a pack of assholes, but they weren’t malicious and they only snooped when necessary. The box had a lock anyways, not like half of them hadn’t been taught lockpicking by Stiles himself, but they respected his privacy. He shoves the note in his pocket to bring upstairs and pours himself a cool glass of water from the tap.

He figures he’ll head over to see Erica around lunchtime. It’s Monday so Boyd’s usually down for lunch too since he usually works nights and weekends. Derek’s always been curious about how they make their opposite shifts and opposite personalities work but he’s not stupid enough to ask. They just fit together and even when stuff sucks, which to be fair it often does in Beacon Hills, they put in the work to stay in tune with one another. He’s happy for them though. He hadn’t known when he’d chosen them and they’d chosen him right back that they would complement each other so well. 

When he finishes his water he heads up to rinse down real quick and change into fresher clothes. It’s not like running really has him break a sweat regularly but he was out for three hours and through the woods all morning. He knows if he shows up like this Erica will absolutely comment on it and he does not want to be grilled about his day, he just wants grilled cheese and the steady companionship of his first betas.

When he’s stripping down to shower the crackle in his pocket reminds him of the note. He gets the box down from the bookshelf, unlocks it, and reads the note before placing it in and relocking and replacing the box in its spot. He wonders how many more notes he’s got left before Stiles is gone. He’d already been surprised to see him this morning, thought for sure when he rolled out with the boys this weekend that he wouldn’t see him back in the loft until after finals but Stiles hadn’t let him ask. He’ll take it though, this extra time.

This note, like all of Stiles’ notes, is just a quick note and a random factoid. They probably would come in handy if Derek was the type of person to go to pub quiz nights but he’s not. They do come in handy as snapshots of whatever’s going on in Stiles’ mind at the time. Always weird.

“ _See you -S_ ” it had said, followed by, “ _There have only been 200 documented cases of polyorchidism. Do_ _not_ _Google this._ ”

So of course Derek googled it, immediately regretted it, and took a quick shower. He changed into a fresh outfit and texted Boyd & Erica to see if they were available for lunch in 20. He didn’t have to say where. They knew the cafe next to the tea shop had a DIY pretentious grilled cheese menu that had all the hipsters from the tea shop next door Instagramming their unique combinations. The hashtags probably did wonders for the foot traffic. It also helped that it was family-owned, Boyd’s family at least.

Erica met them at one of the wooden picnic tables outside that the two businesses shared and passed Boyd a cup. Derek would be offended except he knows it’s because Erica knows that he’s a weirdo and only drinks water with his grilled cheese because he likes to pinpoint all the different flavor notes like the pretentious hipster he probably could’ve grown into had he embraced that whole college life or whatever Laura had wanted for him. 

They placed their order combinations for the day and waited outside. Sam, Boyd’s cousin, rang them up at the till and said they’d bring them out when they were ready. Erica ordered the atrocious combination of apple butter, bacon, cheddar, and apples on sourdough. Boyd ordered the more sane combination of a truffled parmesan and mozzarella on sliced brioche. Derek felt like he’d earned some extra calories today so he went with a three-cheese, avocado, bacon, pesto grilled chicken, and arugula on rye. 

They’re halfway through their sandwiches, Erica regaling them with a tale of the Carson twins who’d come in every day the past week ordering for the other and trying to get the other one to guess what it was. 

“Haven’t had this much fun making tea since Stiles’ first got into it. I feel like a Potions Mistress or something, just whipping stuff up. Nina’s gotten one right so far so you _know_ her sister’s going to be out for blood tomorrow trying to even the score.” At a single raised eyebrow from Boyd she chews a bite of her disgusting sandwich and tacks on, “Or peaking at when I grab from the shelf, either way. It’s about to get really interesting to see how long they can keep it up into the school year.”

Stiles plopped down unceremoniously, straddling the picnic bench on Derek’s side and tsking them all, affronted. “Wow guys, thanks for asking me if _I_ was hungry.”

“Stiles, you’re _always_ hungry,” Erica says.

“She’s right. I’ve never seen you turn down food,” Boyd adds, finishing off the last of his sandwich but nudging his chips toward Stiles who grabs a handful with a smile as bright as the sun.

Derek feels guilty like he’s a bad provider, or a bad alpha, or just a bad friend not returning the favor of this morning’s breakfast- even though Stiles is very much not tit for tat and does not keep score of how often he feeds Derek and vice versa. But what if he does?

“Sorry, I- um, I can just go have Sam make your regular? I didn’t know you were coming.” Derek says.

“As if,” Stiles, a grilled cheese purist, says in perfect timing as Sam brings out his American cheese on white bread. “Sam loves me more, they know my order when they see me. Right, Sammy? Oooh, Sammy made my sammy! Yes, Sammy is happening!”

Sam just rolls their eyes at the nickname and tucks a braid back behind their ear, salutes, and heads back inside without another word. 

“They must love you, they don’t take that shit from anybody else in this town,” Erica smirks, finishing her own sandwich belatedly from talking through much of the earlier portion of the meal. 

Stiles eyes cut briefly to Derek and then back to Boyd who is the very picture of somebody on Team No Comment and Erica who just laughs. “Shush, it’s not like that and you know it. I just appreciate the purveyors of fine food. They make the best lunch in town.”

“Stiles, you’re eating wonder bread and _American cheese_ which is not even cheese. It’s basically a soft bit of yellow plastic. Derek, tell him his sandwich is trash.”

“Babe, glass houses. Your choices aren’t everybody else’s,” Boyd reminds her with one of the soft smiles reserved just for her. “Apple butter does not belong on a grilled cheese.”

Stiles gasps in mock surprise, “Boyd, this is impermissible! Get sammy Sam to take that off the options list. We can’t have people copying Erica’s bad life choices.”

“Speaking of bad life choices,” Erica snaps back playfully, “how’s San Fran treating you guys?”

Stiles looks confused for half a beat before shoving the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and trying to talk through it. Wolves have good hearing but not that good.

“Come again?” Erica says.

“That’s what she said, oooooh,” Stiles responds automatically and everyone else rolls their eyes. This beloved idiot had saved all of their asses on multiple occasions but sometimes that idiot part shone just a bit brighter than his more endearing qualities.

“Ugh, gross!” Erica scoffs as she stands, her lunch break over. Boyd gathers their things to clear the table and gives her a quick kiss goodbye as she heads back to work, leaving Derek and Stiles to their own devices.

“Well, that took less time than I thought it would. Wanna go watch something? I know they just released fresh titles on Netflix and you have got to start watching things other than nature documentaries. It’s weird.”

What took less time than he thought it would? Lunch? Grossing Erica out? Derek didn’t ask, he just shrugged and followed Stiles to the jeep since he’d walked over here and let Stiles drive them home. Not to their home because there was no they here, but to Derek’s home. The loft. Where he lived. Alone. That smelled of pack, of Stiles, of himself- but mostly of Stiles and himself and the way their scents combined was the last thing he thought of before he went to sleep and often the first thing he thought of upon waking unless he happened to be waking to a life-threatening emergency or intruder. 

He told himself not to be weird. He had limited time left with Stiles and he didn’t want to waste it being mopey or sharper than usual. 

“For real though, sorry about lunch. I would’ve texted but I think my phone was still off from the testing center. They made me turn it off and lock it in another room- you know how much I hate not being connected. I zoomed through it partly because I was convinced there was going to be some sort of emergency and also because it’s not like it was hard. You only need a 50 to pass and my score was well over. I wonder if anybody ever gets a perfect score. Hmm,” Stiles rattled off, possibly mostly to himself but also to Derek too as the only other person in the car, “maybe that’s something to shoot for but I wonder if it would get me flagged.”

“Testing center?” Derek was confused. Because he had grown from his slightly more verbally constipated youth, he sometimes asked clarifying questions. Stiles was going to school in San Francisco, what would he need with a testing center that was close enough he could make it to a reasonably timed lunch without having been gone long.

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t even need my full 3 hours this morning to cram. I just did the practice questions, skipped the review content and showed up for my scheduled time. I figured American Literature first would be easy to get the feel of the format and it was. Hello, easy A. I’m going to do English comp tomorrow and that’s 6 credits if I score high enough. If they’re all this breezy, I should be done with all the core classes within the month. May take a bit longer to brush up on Spanish though because that’s 6 to 12 credits I do not want to have to retest for and I know a dude who missed his French test by 2 points and I am not about that.” Stiles said, like any of that made any sense. “Other than Spanish though, a book a day in the AM, test at 11, and hopefully out in time for lunch then whatever for the afternoons.”

Stiles parked and hopped out of the car, Derek taking an extra moment to try and capture the moment. He was cataloging moments with all of them before they left, a habit he’d picked up since Laura left and never came back. He sometimes wonders when he’ll be able to stop living with the constant fear that everyone he cares about is going to die brutally- then the Laura voice in his head tells him that will probably happen when they stop actually dying brutally. It’s not an irrational fear when it’s happened more than once. Nobody’s died for a while though, Peter not included because he came back and the Sheriff had had a few close calls but he’s a sturdy guy and bounces back well. Like Stiles, always bouncing back.

Derek is not following what Stiles is saying but he’s following Stiles up the stairs, watching him let himself in with his own key, and pull Derek in by the shirtsleeve. 

“Dude, what was in your lunch? You look dazed right now.”

“No, ’m fine,” Derek says, mentally kicking himself for not keeping his shit together.

He pulls up Netflix before handing the remote over to Stiles who’s already sprawled across the couch. When Derek goes to sit, Stiles lifts his head and pats. Derek fakes a sigh and sits in the designated spot so Stiles can use him as a pillow. They only get up to get leftover pizza from the fridge midway through the second movie, another Stiles pick.

Stiles insists through a yawn that he’s good for a third movie. His mistake is letting Derek pick. David Attenborough may be a global treasure, but these nature documentaries put him right to sleep. Derek unconsciously synchs his breathing with Stiles when they’re this close, always has probably since the first time he’d nearly died in his jeep from a wolfsbane bullet, and Stiles’ presence was the only thing keeping him any semblance of calm. The steadier his breathing gets as he descends into sleep, the harder it is for Derek’s eyes to stay open until they do finally drift closed.

\---

Stiles is already at work at the table when the sound of the kettle wakes him. He thinks it should be strange that he’s so comfortable with Stiles in his space that he could move around him as a sleeping alpha werewolf and not trigger him to wake up. He’s not exactly known for being stealthy. 

Derek, on the other hand, scares the crap out of him after he’s poured the water for the tea and turns around to find Derek standing right there. Stiles’ hand is on his heart and he’s scowling at Derek.

“Warn a guy! You’re lucky that tea needs to steep a minute or we both would have been wearing it. Not all of us can magically heal in 2 seconds.” Stiles, in fresh clothes from his drawer upstairs probably, gently shoulders past Derek to get back to his work on the table.

Derek finally notices that while the subjects on the spines are different they all say CLEP. That’s not the acronym for his school. Derek was happy to be getting extra Stiles time with everybody else already packed and gone but his confusion from yesterday was back in full force. He was not awake enough for this. He grabbed the mugs from the kitchen, of course, Stiles had made him a cup too and brought Stiles his.

“Eggs?”

“Yes, please. I figured the kettle was pushing it enough without waking you and I meant to get it earlier. Sorry about that. You looked comfy.” Stiles says, turning back to paging through the text in front of him.

Derek makes the food almost robotically and brings their plates and forks to the table. Stiles, eating one-handed, doesn’t look up from his book.

Derek’s fine with that, he’s not awake enough to be conversational yet. Some would argue that he is never conversational. He sips his tea, goes through the motions of chewing and swallowing his eggs, and takes his phone from the charger in the kitchen on his way to deposit his plate in the sink. 

Stiles must have plugged Derek’s phone in this morning when he got up because it had been on the table by the couch in front of them last night. As much as Stiles didn’t like to be away from his phone, Derek had the same fears of being unreachable in an emergency which was now exacerbated by his pack being split up and down two coasts, so he’s pleased that Stiles had been thoughtful enough to make sure Derek’s battery didn’t end up dead.

No emergencies. Normal check-in texts on the group chat. There’s also a picture of Scott clutching and drooling on a pink floral pillowcase that he’s pretty sure came from Allison’s bed that was sent by Isaac to him directly. He can be an asshole but he’s not cruel. It’s kind of sweet, actually. Assuming of course that Allison gave him the pillow case and not that he’d snatched it like a creeper. If Derek could go without snatching anything of Stiles’ then he’s pretty sure Scott can survive until the weekend when he knew they’d drive down to see them. Granted, Stiles leaves plenty of things around the loft as is so it’s not like he’d have to look very hard if he was that far gone. 

He had a thought as he was cleaning the breakfast dishes before his run that he could just look up the acronym from the books and figure it out without asking Stiles. Stiles wasn’t the only person in the pack who could piece things together. Except he didn’t have time just then because he’d already slept in. He knew his anxiety would only get worse if he didn’t get out for his perimeter checks soon, he could feel it like an itch beneath his skin, the instinctual need to know the territory is safe. He finishes cleaning up and heads out, leaving Stiles to his books.

Just like yesterday, Stiles is gone when he’s back though he’s been gone less than an hour today. The rest of the books and his duffle bag he’d brought yesterday are gone. There’s no note on the counter. Derek tries not to be disappointed. He must’ve finally gotten back on the road. Classes start Monday after all so he was cutting it a bit close. Derek highly doubts that Stiles managed to get all of his, Scott and Isaac’s belongings unpacked and organized over just the one weekend. The three of them are a mess, their apartment is likely going to be too. He’s not sure when Stiles will be back but, there’s always the coming weekend so he goes back to his normal day to day stuff.

\---

Tuesdays are his designated "feed the pack adults day" so he places his standing order for pizza and salad for the precinct and for Melissa’s unit. Some weeks if he’s busy, he’ll pay extra to have it delivered but today he’s not. He wants to keep busy anyways so he swings by to pick it up and drop it off. Melissa and John always tell him he doesn’t have to do this but considering how much shit the nurses and the deputies have to go through because they work in this town, he tells them he just wants them to know they’re appreciated. 

Thankfully none of the current deputies remember him from when Stiles and Scott had accused him of murder, twice, though that second time was admittedly more Scott. He’s pretty sure they wouldn’t accept it if they knew that, considering it may be bribery or something, but the nurses other than Melissa have quick turnover and never say no to free food either. 

On the way back, he stops for groceries and catches himself putting more than needed in the cart. He’s got less mouths to feed now that they’re a bit older, have jobs, have better relationships with their families, oh and the whole thing where half of them aren’t here anymore. He still gets the same amount of ice cream though. He’ll eat his feelings later if he needs to. 

When he’s positioning all the bags on his arms so he can make it upstairs in one trip, he hears the familiar rumble of Stiles’ jeep approaching the building. He’d pause to wait for him but the ice cream is probably already unhappy from the car ride so he heads inside and doesn’t kill himself on the stairs when Stiles catches up to him, unlocking and sliding open the door with an exaggerated bow.

Derek nods hello and sets to putting away the groceries, ice cream first. Stiles moves everything once it’s put away anyways because he says Derek’s organizational skills suck. Derek doesn’t comment, just rolls his eyes and lets him. If Stiles wants to touch every single thing that’s going in the cabinets and fridge, he can go right ahead. It’s not creepy or sad or anything if you don’t think too hard about it. 

Stiles doesn’t fill the silence, though he does more often than not. They can sit in comfortable silence sometimes. It’s not loaded or heated, it just is. They both know enough about being alone. They’re more comfortable being alone together though, or at least Derek is and he’s fairly sure Stiles is aware of that and that’s why he comes around solo so often. 

When they’re done, Stiles pulls one of the pints out of the freezer and two spoons. He beelines it to the couch and when Derek moves to join him, Stiles snatches up the remote so fast Derek could almost think he’d been bitten if he didn’t know any better.

“No. Nuh-uh. You don’t get to pick. I am having ice cream because I deserve it- you can have ice cream because I’m nice enough to share. But I am _not_ sitting through another nature documentary. Let’s watch something classic.”

Derek does not point out the fact that it is his ice cream that he just bought which means it is he that is sharing with Stiles. He also does not point out the fact that he knows Stiles has picked up some of his factoids from those documentaries he claims not to like. He sits with a long-suffering sigh and takes the proffered spoon.

When the credits are rolling and Derek chucks the container and places the spoons in the sink he hears Stiles’ phone buzz on the couch. He tries to tune him out to give him privacy but there’s only so long one can dawdle to wash two spoons and place them in the drying rack. 

“Heya Scotty, miss me already?” Stiles says with the specific sassy lilt to his voice that is reserved just for Scott. “You guys finish unpacking? Uh-huh, yup.”

After a longer pause during which Derek assumes Scott’s actually able to get a word in, Stiles says, “Yeah, I’ll grab it Friday. Isaac forget anything too? Yeah, yeah. I’m at Derek’s. Scott it’s been two days. I’ve got like three more this week and I think I’ll be fine to stack next week on top. Yeah, they’re a breeze so far.”

Derek grabs them each a glass of water, taking extra time to add ice cubes because even though Stiles has to know he can hear him from here he doesn’t want to make it any weirder by sitting there watching him chat with Scott.

“Don’t be a baby. It’s not like you’re never going to see me again. Weekends and breaks are a thing, Scotty.” Stiles says and Derek freezes in the kitchen. “Yeah, love you too bro. Now go teach Isaac how to make the good kind of mac’n’cheese.”

Derek hears him hang up with a laugh and sees him make grabby hands for the water he somehow managed to spill. What is even happening right now. That conversation made no sense.

“Stiles?”

“Hmm?” Stiles asks, scrolling through the screen like they’re just going to spend the day watching movies again and nothing strange is happening at all.

“What time’s your first class on Monday?”

Stiles stops browning to look at him like he’s crazy or very, very confused and then just slowly shrugs, “That’s not really how it works.”

“Oh, you have Mondays off then? So you don’t have to be on campus til Tuesday? I don’t know your class schedule.”

Stiles face does that weird scrunchy thing usually reserved for Scott or Jackson when they say something really stupid. Derek’s not sure he’s ever seen it directed at him before and he’s not loving it. He feels like he’s missing something that Stiles expects him to know. He’s generally been really good at keeping tabs on everyone, especially Stiles who tends to find his way into the most trouble, but he’s at a loss at the moment so he pastes on his most annoyed face like he’s above all this and Stiles is the one that’s being daft. Plausible deniability or something. 

“Derek,” Stiles says very slowly, “where do you think I was the last two days?”

“Yesterday you went to a testing center?” He’s not sure why it came out as a question but Stiles nods slowly, encouragingly as if that will jog the memory of whatever Derek doesn’t know.

“Doing what?”

Derek looks around, the books aren’t on the table anymore but he remembers the acronym, “CLEP?”

“That’s right, big guy,” Stiles sounds like he’s talking to a five-year-old not a twenty-two-year-old alpha werewolf. “And you remember what that is, right?”

Remembering would require Stiles to have talked to him about this before or for him to have remembered to Google it earlier. Derek distinctly remembers everything they talk about because he’s learned you never know when the small shit will come up again and save them all or be the deciding piece of a puzzle. Stiles speaks and he files it away, even when it sounds like nonsense. He would 100% remember if Stiles had talked about this with him.

“Stiles, has it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, the reason I’m looking at you like you’re a crazy person- well, crazier than normal-” that earned him a swat on the arm, “is that you _haven’t_ actually told me what your plans are other than which school you’d been accepted at?”

Stiles was silent, he was clearly doing a mental tally of his own, and bit his lip before continuing, “You know, I think you might be onto something, Sourwolf. I definitely talked to my dad about it, Scott and Melissa too, and I thought I’d been clear about it but Erica seemed confused yesterday too. Hard to tell when I can’t read chemosignals like some of you cheaters.”

Derek raised his eyebrows in askance, finding it hard to feel victorious about remembering correctly when the topic itself was one of such importance.

“I don’t have to be on campus. I went to get like my student ID or whatever but I don’t have to be on campus. My courses are online, I’m doing them here.” Stiles chokes a bit and flails in true Stiles fashion, “Well, not _here_ here but like Beacon Hills here.”

Derek bristles at that, “Stiles-”

“Nope. Don’t start. I’m already registered for the term and either way they’re just pre-reqs for the better stuff. I’m testing out of everything else, that’s what the CLEPs are that I’m doing at the testing center. There’s at least 24 subjects I can knock out at what like fifty bucks a pop instead of thousands for tuition and they equal the same college credit, like 3-12 credits depending. If I pass all the ones I’m registered for, I’m most of the way to a bachelor’s degree without having to leave. The school’s got a maximum transfer credit policy so I do still have to complete a chunk of my degree there but everything I will need is offered online and asynchronous. Much less stressful than surviving high school.” Stiles says with a grin.

But this doesn’t make sense. Stiles was getting out of Beacon Hills, going to keep Scott and Isaac in check and out of trouble. Or the other way around, probably alternating turns really because they were all idiots. But no, Stiles was supposed to be going this wasn’t the plan. He’d been working on making his peace with that all summer and was having difficulty reconciling the fact that Stiles was staying.

“But San Francisco?” 

“Requires state residency, not city residency. Even then, I’m pretty sure that just pertains to tuition rates and out of state people could just as easily register for the online courses.” Stiles purses his lips as if debating on how to continue like he’s thinking of the words he wants to say instead of spitting them out unfiltered for once. “I’ll help hold down the fort up here, keep an eye on my dad and everybody else, then drive down to visit with Allison. They’ve got mostly everything they need. I’m gonna run a few more things down to Scott this weekend but other than that my baby’s left the nest.”

Stiles wipes awake a tear that isn’t actually there and smiles blindingly at Derek. Derek still feels like there’s something he’s missing that’s right in front of his face.

“I can keep an eye on the pack. We’ll be fine. You can go.” Derek says, and he means it but apparently not the way that Stiles takes it because his light and happy scent sours and Derek does not know what he’s doing wrong here.

“Hmm, interesting that you think my decision revolves around you and whatever lingering perceptions of inadequacy you think I’m holding. You’re a good alpha, Derek. I _know_ you can keep an eye on them and that everyone will be fine but why the fuck should I have to leave home and abandon my pack, abandon _you_ , when I don’t have to do that and still get my degree.” 

And there it is. The penny’s dropped and Derek’s brain seems to have caught up and pieced all the disparate pieces of the puzzle together. 

“I don’t want you giving up your life for me and missing out on the college experience. You deserve to live the life you’ve got,” Derek says, parroting back words so similar to the ones Laura had once said to him that it makes his chest ache for an altogether different reason.

Stiles just scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, looking much too old to be modeling a petulant child. “Seriously?! What ‘college experience’ am I missing out on here, hmm? Dragging my ass to un-air-conditioned classrooms for 7am lectures, bullshit PowerPoints read verbatim at a class full of under-caffeinated zombies, cram sessions where I try to carry Scott through another degree, and rigid exam schedules that aren’t made with the never-ending shit storm that is Beacon Hills in mind? Tell me how that makes more sense than the test I took today that gave me six full English credits that I finished in half an hour? Impart your wisdom, lay it on me Alpha Hale.”

Derek didn’t really have an answer for that. Stiles had, unsurprisingly, made some very valid points.

Stiles barrels on when a beat has passed and neither Derek nor his eyebrows have responded, “This isn’t 1985, dumbass. Lots of people take online classes and obviously a shit ton of people take these CLEP exams too or they wouldn’t be a nationwide thing. It’s cheaper and makes better use of my time. The ‘college experience’ is a bullshit line old people use to guilt younger people into believing they need to have some stereotypical range of life experiences to grow as a person.”

He leans forward to angrily sip his ice water, because apparently, that’s a thing you can do when you set your mind to it, and continues a bit heatedly, “Those same people, I’m just gonna hazard a guess here, haven’t basically raised themselves since elementary school, or been possessed by a thousand-year-old demon fox, or traveled internationally to prevent supernatural disasters and try to negotiate their friends out of imprisonment, or been held at gunpoint with their dad and friends in a sheriff’s station, or paralyzed twice by a kanima, or fought witches, or befriended other witches and druids, or literally like any of the many lifetimes worth of shit that I have in the past four years.”

Again, Derek really doesn’t know what to say. He’d been agonizing for literally months that most of the pack was graduating and ready to move on this year. He’d not said a word about the more-than-friends type feelings he’d been developing for Stiles because at first he was too young, then there was too much else going on, then there was ever so briefly Malia, and then he just felt like there was never a right time. He didn’t want to say anything and abuse his authority as alpha and he didn’t want to guilt Stiles into staying. But all this meant that Stiles had already decided to stay, had already had a plan in place to do so, and was okay with it. The only thing he wasn’t okay with was, apparently, Derek being completely obtuse about this when he’s used to them being on the same page.

Stiles uncrosses his arms and rest a palm on Derek’s arm, meaning whatever journey his facial expressions just went on had convinced Stiles to take pity on him and his obliviousness in this department, “You may be my alpha, and you’re actually a _good_ fucking alpha now too, now that you’ve gotten your shit together and the pack has stabilized. Even so, you don’t get to make my decisions for me. I’ve already made them. Even my dad agreed it made the most sense but I’m pretty sure that was equal parts financial incentive and being able to make sure I wasn’t doing anything stupid enough to get arrested outside of his jurisdiction.”

“Stiles, I’m in love with you.”

Whoops. Abort, abort! He had not meant to say that out loud but it hangs on the air between them. 

Stiles retreats his hand from Derek’s arm to run in through his messy hair and takes a deep breath. Derek braces himself for the worst but before Stiles gets up and leaves he has to tell him, now that it’s out there, he has to tell him.

“I didn’t want you to leave, I wasn’t trying to kick you out. I just wanted you to have something normal. This town has taken so much from you. _I_ have taken so much from you. You deserve to have good things in your life, normal things like friends and parties and not witches blowing up the library and hundreds of birds pelting your school windows and ritual human sacrifices. I’m sorry if I’m being selfish, I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” And that’s probably the most Derek’s spoken in one go in a long while. He usually saves his monologues for emergencies when even his eyebrows aren’t sufficiently communicative. He supposes this counts.

“Did you mean it?” Stiles says, looking up at him once more. “I don’t have the super wolfy ability to hear when people mean what they say. Did you mean it?”

Derek’s at a loss for words but when Stiles makes to get up off the couch Derek reaches out gently and grabs his wrist to stop him, “I- yeah. I meant it. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that. I wasn’t going to say anything until you were done with school, figured out your path, decided if you wanted to settle here or see more of the world. You have choices, you don’t have to be tied here. You deserve to have a real life, Stiles. You deserve more.”

Stiles twists his hand around, out of Derek’s grasp and just clasps onto his hand, “Has it occurred to you, almighty and all-knowing alpha, that I’ve already made my choice. Many times over. You’re not getting rid of me until I die, which with our track record will probably be much sooner than my father would like, but I am staying because I want to. I’m staying because I’ve seen enough to know that Beacon Hills is where I want to be. I'm staying because I care about my pack. I’m staying because I’ve been in love with you for years and the thought of being half a state away from you, especially with your penchant for getting into scrapes you need me to save you from, is unfathomable. I’m staying because it’s what I want and this is the life I chose.”

“What about Scott?” Derek asks, ignoring the elephant in the room that is their apparently mutual love for one another and trying to poke holes in Stiles’ choices to see if it still holds water.

“Scott’s a big boy. He’s got Isaac and they’ve got their own bro-ship going on. He learns better in person and Isaac deserves to take advantage of the scholarship and go live a little. I tried to talk him into trying the CLEP thing too but he couldn’t even focus on the practice tests in the books. He’ll be fine.” Stiles says, pulling Derek up off the couch by the hand he’s still not let go as if it’s anchoring them both here in this moment.

“Did you mean it?” Derek parrots Stiles’ own words back at him even though his heartbeat had been steady the whole time he spoke, like everything he’d been saying was as easy as breathing and simply the facts of life. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west and Stiles Stilinski loves Derek Hale and this is their territory that they’ve made their own. Simple facts. 

“Yes, you’ve got a terrible habit of getting into some real bullshit. You think Lydia would’ve held you up in a pool for hours?”

Derek leans forward ever so slightly, gently rests their foreheads together as the smirk Stiles had been sporting at his smartass remark slips off his face and his breath catches in his throat. 

“If it was in her best interest at the time, yes. Lydia’s smart like that.” Derek murmurs quietly in the space between them, “But if it had been Lydia I wouldn’t have turned my back on a clear threat to push you to safety.”

“Hmm, fair point,” Stiles muses softly, quietly like he’s afraid to break this fragile moment between them. 

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you’re staying.”

And just like that, easy as can be, Stiles closed that small space between them with a kiss. 

Stiles’ college years were already looking to be way better than Derek’s were. Who knows, maybe tomorrow morning he’ll take a better look at Stiles’ books and see if there are any CLEP exams he can take to finish up the credit requirements for his degree since Stiles made it sound so simple to do. 

He thinks Laura would’ve liked to see him finish, to graduate, to have a speck of normalcy. He knows Laura would adore Stiles and that this- this is the kind of experience she definitely would have wanted for him- to be loved and protected so fiercely and completely. 

They both deserve nice things, to be happy and safe. He thinks they’ve got it handled.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, CLEP exams are a real thing and yes you can get a shit ton of college credits for a tiny fraction of what you'd pay in college tuition, and yes, many highschoolers could pass these exams straight out of high school. Why don't more people know about this? Because higher education is a for-profit entity and nobody's making money off people demonstrating their knowledge acquisition with a quick exam. Also, asynchronous online courses are where it's at, especially pre-pandemic. Now all the universities are scrambling to make higher ed work but not mine because we've had distance learning down for ages. 
> 
> Derek does well on his exams and does finish his degree, just because he can.


End file.
